


A Single Crow Lures an Entire Flock

by RiddlesAndCrows



Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Fear Toxin Exchange, Gen, Injury, Snark, fear toxin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 13:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12654012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiddlesAndCrows/pseuds/RiddlesAndCrows
Summary: Scarecrow, docked on the waters of Arkham City, reluctantly accepts help from the Identity Thief to care for his ghastly injuries inflicted on him by Killer Croc. Although, this causes Crane to owe one favor too many.





	A Single Crow Lures an Entire Flock

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially my theory on why Hush and Riddler are in possession of canisters of the fear toxin seen throughout Arkham City.

         Dr. Jonathan Crane audibly groaned as a hard kick landed on his left shin by a particularly nasty "volunteer" which the doctor had tied in a chair. The unfortunate subject's legs were still loose, as Crane had only managed to restrain his arms before being brutally struck. Behind his burlap mask, his eyes began to water from the pain radiating from his injury; his leg had already been wounded by Killer Croc from a debacle in the sewers of Arkham Asylum. 

         The injuries he had sustained have caused him to harbor a great aversion to the mutated reptile, and, though he would rather have his brain dissected by Hugo Strange than admit it, a slight fear. Crane never planned to extract revenge on Killer Croc, for he had other, greater plans to attend to, and he was far too busy to deal with a dumb brute.

        Carefully maneuvering away from the kicking, he managed to carefully stick a needle into the man's neck and empty its contents into his bloodstream. The subject's brawling calmed and was - to Crane's immense satisfaction - replaced by tremors of terror. For the next several minutes, the doctor continued to take mental notes of the man's behavior, which varied between terrified screaming coupled with the pleading of "Please!! Get them off of me! Pleeeaasee!!" and the man's fingers clawing at his eyes, causing vivid red nail marks to appear around his eye sockets. 

        Unfortunately for Crane, the man's behavior didn't last long and as one final blood-curdling scream erupted from the man, he passed out. 

        Jonathan Crane frowned. He had expected a much longer duration and was disappointed at the few moments the effects lasted. Cautiously approaching the man, he prodded his shoulder, careful to stay out of range of the man's legs. He grumbled at the lack of response as he slid off his mask - wincing as the burlap scratched across one of his facial injuries - and stuffed it into a pocket of his large trench coat. 

        Out of all his ghastly afflictions, his face had suffered the most. With a large chunk of it missing, Crane had taken the liberty of haphazardly sewing pieces of burlap over the lesion. Too busy to even change the cloth to prevent infection, the same piece of burlap he had sewn onto it months prior was still present, only coated with a thick layer of a combination of dirt, grime, and blood. His eyes, which were once a violent shade of blue, were now toned to a milky white, and he positive he was partially blind in one of them. His larynx had sustained damage, which caused his voice to be deeper and more gravelly than it previously was. His mop of brown hair now bared resemblance to an overgrown jungle. 

        Despite the intense alterations to his image, Crane didn't mind; he believed his new appearance had a rather unsettling edge to it, though he didn't appreciate the immense pain which accompanied his injuries. He knew he needed proper medical care, but due to his criminal status, he could not simply admit himself to a hospital, and he lacked knowledge of any underworld surgeons.

        Jonathan was removed from his thoughts when he heard the recognizable noise of the sliding door to his boat open. He withdrew a toxin-filled syringe from his trench coat, his eyes searching for the unwelcome intruder. Crane was aware the compound was not perfected, though he was confident anyone exposed to it would become the same unconscious heap as the subject nearby. He looked up at the entrance of the barge to see the moonlight shine on a familiar flash of green lowering itself into the interior of the boat. Syringe still poised, he watched the figure adjust his lurid green jacket and saunter towards Crane, his form tall, though not nearly reaching the height Jonathan had. The doctor noticed the figure's facial features crumple at the offensive odors drifting around the area, the smell mostly derived from Crane's uncleanliness.  "Ever heard of Febreeze, Jon?" he commented, his voice remarkably arrogant and cocky.

        Jonathan sighed in annoyance at the quip. "To what do I owe the honor, Nygma?" Crane drawled, slightly irritated at the man's uninvited presence. He remained slunk in the shadows and strayed away from the moonlight flooding into the boat, though a few dim lights shone on him from the fixtures on the tanks littering the area, the light was too dim to illuminate him. He slid the syringe back into the depths of his coat. 

        Edward Nygma was a man who never "graced" anyone with his presence unless it was beneficial to him. His silver tongue assisted him in many situations, for he was the type of person to utilize any method at his disposal to obtain what he wants, typically using multiple forms of manipulation and blackmail. 

        Edward sighed in mocked annoyance and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I can assure you, Crane. I do not desire anything currently in your possession. That is not the ca-" He began before being cut off by the older man.

        "I find that quite difficult to believe," Crane calmly spoke, though annoyance was clearly present in his voice. He took a step closer to the genius, allowing the light flooding in from the open door illuminate him.

        "Oh, Jonny! Always dying to know people's interior..." Edward started, only for his words to trail off at the sight of Jonathan's disfigured face. After a single glance, he completely shied his face away from the sight in revulsion. 

       Crane abruptly grabbed Edward's bright purple tie, forcing him to make eye contact with the doctor. Jonathan leered over him, causing the genius to recoil at the horrible stench which lingered around the doctor. "Why are you here, Edward?" he snarled, his breath causing Nygma to squeeze his eyes shut in disgust. The Riddler had a strong stomach - as it is essential in his line of "work" - but he could barely withstand the strong odor surrounding Crane.

        The Riddler, of course, had heard the many rumors circulating around Scarecrow's disappearance. While the majority of the Gothamites believed Crane to be dead, Nygma was one of the few who did not accept the gossip to be true, and with a simple phone call to Mr. Fine - a realtor who sells properties to the criminal underclass - Edward had triangulated Jonathan's whereabouts from the copious amounts of shipping requests ordered by him.

        Nygma took a stale breath and replied, his voice slightly exasperated at Crane's aggressiveness, but boastful all the same, "Simple, my dear doctor. Due to my advanced deductive reasoning, I knew you were alive and well," Edward paused, peering at Jonathan's face. Crane's clutch on his tie slackened slightly. "but without some scuffing, of course," he spoke quickly, referring to the excessive damage on Jonathan's body. Nygma grabbed Crane's grimy hand and pried it from his tie without difficulty. He frowned at the small amount of dirt left on his precious custom-made necktie and straightened his back, returning to his full height. "You survived the encounter with our dear friend Waylon, but with your inability to cope with being in a social situation, I was aware you lacked knowledge of any doctors who are willing to work with your condition and not have you detained almost immediately. Now I, on the other hand, have a vast knowledge of all the underworld medical practitioners in Gotham and beyond." Edward explained as he picked at the cloth in an attempt to remove the filth flecked on it.

        Jonathan peered at Edward with a raised eyebrow. He naturally never underestimated Nygma's intelligence - as it would automatically condemn him to a painful death by the genius himself - but he was still taken aback slightly at how accurate Edward's information was. Needless to say, this fact also provoked another question. "Who else have you told?" Crane inquired, his tone quiet from thought. Nygma was known to rarely keep a secret, whether it be his own capers and confidential information or others', and Jonathan was not ignorant to this piece of information. 

        "Pardon?" Edward asked as he looked up at Jonathan and quirked an eyebrow in return.

        "Who else have you told?!" Crane snarled, the vexation in his voice returning. 

        Jonathan was determined to maintain the deception of his death, especially to the Batman - who Crane was more than aware was hunting him down. He would be infuriated if Edward had disclosed any information on his whereabouts to anyone, as it would instantly undo all of his scheming. 

        Edward's eyes widened at the reappearance of the doctor's irritation, taken aback slightly. "I-I-"

        To Edward's luck, the beginnings of his stuttered explanation were interrupted by a cool "Calm down, Crane," drawled from the other end of the boat. Impulsively, Jonathan reached for the syringe buried in his jacket and removed it, exposing it to view. His eyes darted around the barge, attempting to source the noise and his vision eventually settled on a figure located near the entrance of the boat, his hands tucked into the pockets of his over-sized trench coat - quite similar to the one Crane himself was garbed in, only much cleaner. His vivid red hair was astray and his facial features were sharp. 

        Jonathan narrowed his eyes at the unperturbed intruder, the syringe still withdrew for use. The figure held no concern for the weapon and he strolled forward, having a lack of attention for the genius silently standing beside Jonathan. He viewed the syringe with an arched eyebrow before commenting, "I advise for you to put that away before you injure someone." 

        Crane gave what sufficed as a snort before replying, "And why so? I am certain that what's its intended use is."

        "Be that as it may be, I'd rather focus my attention on you rather than what you are wielding."

        "Oh?" Crane's interest was piqued, but he did not intend to put the syringe away. "And in what area am I the subject of concern?" 

        The figure blinked before responding. "I received a call from our dear friend, Nygma, and he stated you required medical assistance."

        "Really?" _How interesting. The human question mark is responsible for my uninvited guest._  Jonathan turned to the silent Edward - who was still distracted with the cleanliness of his necktie - and gave him a hard glare. "Nygma," he growled.

        The tie slipped from the genius' fingers as he looked up at the two. "Yes?" His tone bore no hint of the trepidation he felt regarding the situation. 

        "Explain," was the snarled command. 

        Nygma stiffened but proceeded to adjust the lapels on his three-piece suit and elaborate. "I simply believe you needed help regarding your...ailments. Call me a sentimental man, Crane, but I don't believe the Gallery would remain the same without your presence - albeit, your eerie one. Therefore, I contacted the good Dr. Elliot," he gestured to the doctor in front Crane, "concerning your condition and he happened to be open for the time being." He had retained whatever inkling of steel that remained within him as he spoke. 

        The aforementioned doctor nodded in agreement with Nygma. 

        There was a moment of  silence in the boat as Jonathan contemplated Edward's explanation, the sound of water sloshing around on the outside filling the silence. However, it wasn't long before Crane broke it. "You're lying, Nygma," he spoke, surprisingly calm, "You didn't make this house call due to you being sentimental. No, you never visit someone due to their mere presence. The only explanation is you currently in debt to the doctor and the only way you know to pay it off is through me. But look around you," he indicated the decrepit surroundings, "I have nothing of value."

        "Incorrect," Elliot interjected, "You have your toxin."

        Jonathan turned from the stiffened genius and back to the doctor. "Oh? And how does this pertain to the debt? If you are in need of my precious compound, then you will be sorely disappointed. I do not simply give it away." His irritation arose once more. 

        "No, but a bargain can be reached. I do not believe you would be happy to die of septic shock if your injuries remain untreated."

        Crane began to utter a protest when he was interrupted by Edward. "Now, don't be ungrateful. It's a simple transaction: the prevention of an unsavory death for a few canisters of fear gas. How difficult can that be?"

        Jonathan Crane loathed Edward Nygma's silver tongue. 

**Author's Note:**

> The story is supposed to follow the Arkhamverse incarnations of the characters, but a few changes were made. I had Crane slightly taller - he is only 6'0" and Edward is 6'1" in the games. This was due to the fact that I prefer Scarecrow to tower over everyone else; it makes Crane seem more imposing. In addition, since Thomas Elliot's "real" face was never revealed, I used the comic visual design. Not everything is quite Arkhamverse, but I believe it's quite close.


End file.
